Robert Burns (1759-1796)

[P. G. Tipps]

Ode To A Mouse:

Wee, sleekit, cowran, tim'rous beastie,
O, what a panic's in thy breastie!
Thou need na start awa sae hasty,
Wi' bickering brattle!
I wad be laith to rin an' chase thee,
Wi' murd'ring pattle!

I'm truly sorry Man's dominion
Has broken Nature's social union,
An' justifies that ill opinion,
Which makes thee startle,
At me, thy poor, earth-born companion,
An' fellow-mortal!

I doubt na, whyles, but thou may thieve;
What then? poor beastie, thou maun live!
A daimen-icker in a thrave 'S a sma' request:
I'll get a blessin wi' the lave,
An' never miss't!

Thy wee-bit housie, too, in ruin!
It's silly wa's the win's are strewin!
An' naething, now, to big a new ane,
O' foggage green!
An' bleak December's winds ensuin,
Baith snell an' keen!

Thou saw the fields laid bare an' wast,
An' weary Winter comin fast,
An' cozie here, beneath the blast,
Thou thought to dwell,
Till crash! the cruel coulter past
Out thro' thy cell.

That wee-bit heap o' leaves an' stibble,
Has cost thee monie a weary nibble!
Now thou's turn'd out, for a' thy trouble,
But house or hald.
To thole the Winter's sleety dribble,
An' cranreuch cauld!

But Mousie, thou are no thy-lane,
In proving foresight may be vain:
The best laid schemes o' Mice an' Men,
Gang aft agley,
An' lea'e us nought but grief an' pain,
For promis'd joy!

Still, thou art blest, compar'd wi' me!
The present only toucheth thee:
But Och! I backward cast my e'e,
On prospects drear!
An' forward, tho' I canna see,
I guess an' fear!

[antongould]

Hope you listened to Breakfast Scotty, there was chat on little else .......

[mangerton]

Thanks, PGT. Here's another that Burns addressed to the animal kingdom:

To A Louse

On Seeing One On A Lady's Bonnet, At Church
1786
Type: Poem
Ha! whaur ye gaun, ye crowlin ferlie?
Your impudence protects you sairly;
I canna say but ye strunt rarely,
Owre gauze and lace;
Tho', faith! I fear ye dine but sparely
On sic a place.

Ye ugly, creepin, blastit wonner,
Detested, shunn'd by saunt an' sinner,
How daur ye set your fit upon her-
Sae fine a lady?
Gae somewhere else and seek your dinner
On some poor body.

Swith! in some beggar's haffet squattle;
There ye may creep, and sprawl, and sprattle,
Wi' ither kindred, jumping cattle,
In shoals and nations;
Whaur horn nor bane ne'er daur unsettle
Your thick plantations.

Now haud you there, ye're out o' sight,
Below the fatt'rels, snug and tight;
Na, faith ye yet! ye'll no be right,
Till ye've got on it-
The verra tapmost, tow'rin height
O' Miss' bonnet.

My sooth! right bauld ye set your nose out,
As plump an' grey as ony groset:
O for some rank, mercurial rozet,
Or fell, red smeddum,
I'd gie you sic a hearty dose o't,
Wad dress your droddum.

I wad na been surpris'd to spy
You on an auld wife's flainen toy;
Or aiblins some bit dubbie boy,
On's wyliecoat;
But Miss' fine Lunardi! fye!
How daur ye do't?

O Jeany, dinna toss your head,
An' set your beauties a' abread!
Ye little ken what cursed speed
The blastie's makin:
Thae winks an' finger-ends, I dread,
Are notice takin.

O wad some Power the giftie gie us
To see oursels as ithers see us!
It wad frae mony a blunder free us,
An' foolish notion:
What airs in dress an' gait wad lea'e us,
An' ev'n devotion!

[Barbirollians]

Always amazes me that such a minor poet has a whole night named after him .

Lights blue touch paper and withdraws ....

[Richard Tarleton]

More essential Burns - Ae Fond Kiss.

Ae fond kiss, and then we sever;
Ae fareweel, and then forever!
Deep in heart-wrung tears I'll pledge thee,
Warring sighs and groans I'll wage thee.
Who shall say that Fortune grieves him,
While the star of hope she leaves him?
Me, nae cheerfu' twinkle lights me;
Dark despair around benights me.

I'll ne'er blame my partial fancy,
Naething could resist my Nancy;
But to see her was to love her;
Love but her, and love forever.
Had we never lov'd sae kindly,
Had we never lov'd sae blindly,
Never met—or never parted—
We had ne'er been broken-hearted.

Fare thee weel, thou first and fairest!
Fare thee weel, thou best and dearest!
Thine be ilka joy and treasure,
Peace. enjoyment, love, and pleasure!
Ae fond kiss, and then we sever;
Ae fareweel, alas, forever!
Deep in heart-wrung tears I'll pledge thee,
Warring sighs and groans I'll wage thee!

A bewildering variety of versions on YouTube - Karen Matheson (lovely but very slow), The Corries (more up tempo), Eddie Reader (a tad self-indulgent, doesn't actually start singing till 0.50), Michael Marra (gravelly ), Dougie MacLean (pulls it around too much for me)....

[P. G. Tipps]

The actress Dawn Steele does a marvellous rendition of the Louse & Mouse poems:

https://youtu.be/wO_tdp8pYxg

https://youtu.be/tpzK73_lF8s

Refreshing to hear these simple yet towering verses in a genuine West of Scotland accent and performed so expressively ...

[vinteuil]

Always amazes me that such a minor poet has a whole night named after him .

Lights blue touch paper and withdraws ....

... I think, if I were Scots, and wanted to have a 'night' to celebrate one of the great Poets, it wd be Henryson or Dunbar.

But then - Burns was a Poet of the People - and the People like that sort of thing.

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/William_Dunbar

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Robert_Henryson

[ferneyhoughgeliebte]

... I think, if I were Scots, and wanted to have a 'night' to celebrate one of the great Poets, it wd be Henryson or Dunbar.

Ah - but we don't know when their birthdays were, vinty. We'd have to invent a special day for them - or stick to what we do now, and celebrate them every day, just to be on the safe side.

[vinteuil]

... celebrate them every day, just to be on the safe side.

[ ... the only half-way interesting or original essay I produced as an undergraduate was on Henryson's Testament of Cresseid... ]

[Barbirollians]

Burns's poetry to me comes nowhere near the quality of the great romantic poets - Byron, Keats and Shelley are in a different league .

Then again a Byron night might be an overly dissolute affair !

[Richard Tarleton]

Burns's poetry to me comes nowhere near the quality of the great romantic poets - Byron, Keats and Shelley are in a different league .

Well, Barbs, it was presumably just as open to the friends and admirers of Byron, Keats and Shelley to meet for supper in memory of their friend as it was for those of Burns....With a 215-year old tradition behind it, and worldwide traction, there seems little mileage in bemoaning it now.....

[mangerton]

Burns's poetry to me comes nowhere near the quality of the great romantic poets - Byron, Keats and Shelley are in a different league .

They were doing different things, and came from extremely different backgrounds. Burns still speaks to all of us, and what he wrote more than 200 years ago is still relevant today. I quoted "To a Louse" above.

O wad some Power the giftie gie us
To see oursels as ithers see us!
It wad frae mony a blunder free us,
An' foolish notion:
What airs in dress an' gait wad lea'e us,
An' ev'n devotion!

Donald Trump?

or consider this:

A Man's A Man For A' That


1795

Is there for honest Poverty
That hings his head, an' a' that;
The coward slave-we pass him by,
We dare be poor for a' that!
For a' that, an' a' that.
Our toils obscure an' a' that,
The rank is but the guinea's stamp,
The Man's the gowd for a' that.

What though on hamely fare we dine,
Wear hoddin grey, an' a that;
Gie fools their silks, and knaves their wine;
A Man's a Man for a' that:
For a' that, and a' that,
Their tinsel show, an' a' that;
The honest man, tho' e'er sae poor,
Is king o' men for a' that.

Ye see yon birkie, ca'd a lord,
Wha struts, an' stares, an' a' that;
Tho' hundreds worship at his word,
He's but a coof for a' that:
For a' that, an' a' that,
His ribband, star, an' a' that:
The man o' independent mind
He looks an' laughs at a' that.

A prince can mak a belted knight,
A marquis, duke, an' a' that;
But an honest man's abon his might,
Gude faith, he maunna fa' that!
For a' that, an' a' that,
Their dignities an' a' that;
The pith o' sense, an' pride o' worth,
Are higher rank than a' that.

Then let us pray that come it may,
(As come it will for a' that,)
That Sense and Worth, o'er a' the earth,
Shall bear the gree, an' a' that.
For a' that, an' a' that,
It's coming yet for a' that,
That Man to Man, the world o'er,
Shall brothers be for a' that.

Or to put the last two lines another way, "Alle Menschen werden Brüder"

Schiller wrote his "Ode to Joy" after Burns' death.

[vinteuil]

"That Man to Man, the world o'er,
Shall brothers be for a' that."

Or to put the last two lines another way, "Alle Menschen werden Brüder"

Schiller wrote his "Ode to Joy" after Burns' death.

... worthy sentiments, of course.

But not what I wd call great poetry.

[Serial_Apologist]

Who's this Robert? And where was the fire extinguisher?

[Richard Tarleton]

Wordsworth and Burns (pp75 et seq.)